The Truth About Endings

We live inside a culture that treats endings as proof that something went wrong. If a relationship ends, we assume we failed to love. If a job ends, we believe we did not try hard enough. If a chapter of life closes, we rush to replace it, numbing ourselves from the discomfort of the unknown. There is little space for endings as a natural rhythm of life, an inhale and an exhale, a contraction and a release.

Some endings are chosen. They arrive as a quiet knowing, a subtle sense that something has completed its cycle. Others arrive uninvited, intense and destabilizing, dismantling structures we assumed would last. Both kinds of endings ask the same thing of us, presence. Yet presence is often what we were never taught.

Instead, many of us learned to override the body, push through discomfort, and stay productive at all costs. We were taught to remain in situations that no longer nourished us and to move quickly past grief. Without guidance, endings become something we either avoid or cling to, rarely something we know how to stand inside with steadiness.

When endings are avoided, the body often steps in to force them. Anxiety spikes. Depression deepens. Addictions emerge. Relationships grow brittle. Creativity dies. Illness settles into the body. The psyche begins to whisper what the mind refuses to hear, this is no longer alive for you. Ignoring these signals does not preserve safety it fractures it.

The Nervous System and the Fear of Letting Go

For many people, endings do not simply feel sad. They feel threatening. This is not a personal failing. It is a nervous system response shaped by early experiences of attachment and loss. If love felt unpredictable or safety depended on staying attuned to others rather than oneself, then letting go can feel destabilizing at a deep level.

Some people respond by holding on past the moment of truth. Others leave prematurely, before intimacy or risk can deepen. Both patterns are attempts to regulate fear. Both protect against the vulnerability of not knowing.

Learning how to end well requires learning how to stay present with loss. It means developing the capacity to remain with bodily sensations, emotions, and memories that once felt overwhelming. This work involves both mindful awareness and an understanding of the nervous system states of fight, flight, and freeze that can arise during periods of transition.

Original Caregivers and Early Lessons in Endings

Our earliest experiences of endings occur in relationship with parents and original caregivers. Early separations, goodbyes, and disappointments shape how the body responds to loss later in life. When caregivers can slow down, remain present, and name what is happening, the nervous system learns that endings are survivable.

Many people did not receive this kind of guidance. Instead, urgency, productivity, and emotional restraint were modeled. Grief often carried quiet shame. Without support, endings can feel confusing, and fear may be mistaken for intuition or endurance for wisdom.

What if discernment, knowing when to stay and when to leave, were considered an essential life skill? What if grief were understood not as something to eliminate, but something to move through with care and respect?

Becoming the Crone and Reclaiming Inner Authority

As I step more fully into Cronehood, I no longer view endings as evidence of failure. Or if there has been failure, it becomes something that can be integrated rather than denied. Endings become invitations into honesty and self trust.

The Crone does not rush. She listens for what has completed itself. She understands that staying too long can be as harmful as leaving too soon.

Emotional freedom does not come from avoiding pain. It comes from learning how to stay with experience long enough for it to transform. When grief is allowed to move through the body rather than harden, something new becomes possible. There is more space for authenticity, hope, and aliveness.

This kind of freedom is quiet and embodied. It shows up as reduced urgency, clearer boundaries, and deeper trust in one’s own timing and capacity. It is the freedom of no longer abandoning oneself in order to be chosen.

Endings as Gateways

Every true ending marks a threshold. Something completes, and something new waits to emerge. This crossing cannot be rushed. Meaning unfolds when we allow ourselves to remain present through the descent.

When endings are honored, people often experience renewed creativity, stronger intimacy, and a clearer sense of self direction. Attachment is no longer confused with love, and endurance is no longer mistaken for devotion. Life begins to be guided more by internal authority than external approval.

Endings, when approached with care, return us to ourselves. They remind us that life is not meant to be perfected, but lived with honesty, courage, and respect for what is true.